Billy dropped her hands then, and they saw her face. She was not crying.
She was laughing. She was laughing so she could scarcely speak.

"Oh, you did, you did!" she gurgled. "I thought you did, and now I
know!"

"Did what? What do you mean?" William's usually gentle voice was sharp.
Even William's nerves were beginning to feel the strain of the last few
hours.

"Thought I was a--b-boy!" choked Billy. "You called me 'he' once in the
station--I thought you did; but I wasn't sure--not till I saw this room.
But now I know--I know!" And off she went into another hysterical gale
of laughter--Billy's nerves, too, were beginning to respond to the
excitement of the last few hours.

As to the three men and the woman, they stood silent, helpless, looking
into each other's faces with despairing eyes.

In a moment Billy was on her feet, fluttering about the room, touching
this thing, looking at that. Nothing escaped her.

"I'm to fish--and shoot--and fence!" she crowed. "And, oh!--look at
those knives! U-ugh!... And, my! what are these?" she cried, pouncing
on the Indian clubs. "And look at the spiders! Dear, dear, I AM glad
they're dead, anyhow," she shuddered with a nervous laugh that was
almost a sob.

Something in Billy's voice stirred Mrs. Hartwell to sudden action.